


المفترس (Predator/s)/افترس(Devour)

by nigellecter, YouDroppedYourForgiveness



Series: Fire & Brimstone Arc [5]
Category: Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bloodplay, Breathplay, Explicit Sexual Content, Incest, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Prostate Massage, Prostate Milking, Twincest, mention of rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 08:43:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7427980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nigellecter/pseuds/nigellecter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouDroppedYourForgiveness/pseuds/YouDroppedYourForgiveness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the Aftermath of "The Wrongful Trade" and the trouble the twins get up to in Morocco.<br/>Headcanon based on Fire & Brimstone Thread.<br/>Chapter 1 - Hannibal<br/>Chapter 2 - Nigel<br/>Chronologically, Nigel's HC comes first, but Hannibal finished theirs first.<br/>Unbeta'ed, mistakes are our own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Some six months after Nigel was drugged and taken advantage of in Baltimore, he and his twin, Hannibal spent some time in a safe house while he recovered from his injuries. The safe house was in northern New York, far outside any towns or cities. They only spent a month at that domicile, just long enough to let Nigel get back to his old self, and take care of the man who had rapped him. Hannibal decided that they would slowly eat parts of the offender, and offered Nigel a chance to get his revenge. They left his body hollowed out of every organ, and castrated; for the police to find. After they had taken care of business, they had money and new identities all set for leaving the states behind for good. They would start a new life, and even start over. In a way leaving Baltimore behind had set Hannibal free. **  
**

 

The twins had decided to go somewhere interesting and new. A place neither of them had ever been before. They didn’t know how long they would stay, or if they would settle down there, but they planned either way for the long haul. Marrakesh, Morocco was where they ended up, the city had an appeal for both twins, the history, culture, and cuisine for Hannibal to immerse himself in, and the nightlife, sightseeing and adventure, to keep Nigel busy.  It was easy for the two to blend in and get comfortable in a new city. Marrakesh was very popular with the French, many rich and famous celebrities owned land or property here, making the city a desirable stopover and hot spot for foreigners.

 

It wasn’t long though until Hannibal got a job at the the al-Qarawiyyin university,  mosque and library, the oldest in the world. The library used to only be open to scholars and researchers, but now was officially open to the public with teachers who came to lecture. Once Hannibal started working at the Library, the twins moved to Fez to be closer to Hannibal’s job. They bought a new a house and had a giant house warming party for all their new friends, and the French celebrities that they made friends with while staying in Marrakesh. Like a busy bee, Hannibal had everything ready for the party, he cooked, hired servers, made sure there was enough champagne, he had his hand in everything, in every tiny little detail, he wanted this night to be perfect.

 

Hannibal stood in front of the mirror contemplating his reflection. He knew deep down that his major three-piece suit days were at an end. While he mourned the those days, he knew that he couldn’t keep getting custom suits, made; like he used to.  It would be a huge red flag for the FBI. He had to be more low-key about his fashion, and that made him sigh inwardly. Nigel had suggested that he could dress down a bit more, and that he looked good when he was dressed casually, but old habits die hard.  He was wearing a light blue breathable seersucker suit with white pinstripes, and an ivory shirt underneath, no vest, paired with a multi colored plaid tie. He cut a striking figure in light blue, and he turned to the side, to admire himself briefly, when there was grumbling from the doorway.

 

“I don’t know why you fucking insist I dress up, and it’s fucking hot as bloody hell.” Nigel was grumping as he stomped into Hannibal’s room. He was in the middle of ripped off the navy tie he wore, and tossed it on the bed in a crumpled heap. He wore a white blazer with with a light blue undershirt, that was now opened enough to reveal chest hair. He wore matching white pants, with white and brown saddle shoes upon his oddly graceful feet. The blazer hung loose and open showing off how tight his shirt was, but Nigel filled it out in all the right places.

 

“My dear, I need a guarantee that you will be on your best behavior at tonight’s party. Do you think you can do that for me?” Hannibal lifted an inquisitive eyebrow at Nigel while facing the mirror, it was his reflection that Nigel scowled at. The look that his twin was giving him, was defiant and clearly a not the answer he was looking for. With a small intake of breath, he stepped away from the mirror and moved over to a dresser, and pulled open a drawer. “I was saving this for a special occasion, but I think this will do well enough to keep you in line.”   

 

“The fuck is that?” Nigel’s scowl deepened, and he walked over to where Hannibal, stood to get a better look at the object in his hand. “I don’t need a fucking weird ass sex toy to keep me ‘in line’ tonight.” He looked from the object to Hannibal’s face then back to the white dildo looking thing. “You think so little of me? That I need fucking chided like a little kid?” Eyes narrowing, he snatched the little toy from his brother, and held it up curious. “What’s it do anyways?” He couldn’t even believe he was even asking this, but Hannibal always did have a way of piquing his interests.

 

Hannibal kept his face bland, but he was pleased to know that Nigel was easy to handle ‘most’ of the time. Once you got his attention, in a way he was much like a dog, just wave a toy at him, and he was hooked. “It’s called an Aneros, and it’s a toy for men, that you wear almost like a butt plug.” He explained matter of factly, waiting to see if Nigel took the bait. The hard part with his twin was getting him to ‘want to do something’, but normally once Nigel did it, he usually didn’t mind, or enjoyed himself. His twin was a hard sell, and sometimes it took a lot of calm explanation, and reassurance before he would be fine doing something new. As if on cue, and just as he suspected, Nigel adopted a competitive air about him.

 

“You don’t think I’ll fucking do it, do you?” Nigel glared in Hannibal’s direction, desperately wanting to smoke a cigarette. He turned the Aneros, over and over in his hands debating, on one hand he didn’t want to give Hannibal any satisfaction on any of his little head games. On the other hand, he wanted to prove his brother wrong, and he knew that he if did this he would get something equally interesting out of Hannibal in return. “Ok I’ll fucking do it, not because you want me to ‘behave’, but because you’ll owe me BIG time.” He jabbed a finger in his brother’s chest at the word big, for emphasis.

 

The smirk that curled up at the corner of Hannibal’s lip was as evil and devilish as it got. He knew he had hooked his fish, the bait had worked perfectly. “Anything, once the party is over, you may have anything you wish. I promise.” He stared intently into his brother’s eyes when he spoke. Gently and slowly he plucked the Aneros out of Nigel’s rough fingers, and laid one hand lightly on his twin’s bicep, and with the other hand ushered the other over towards the bed. “Let me help you get prepared, and set up to use the this-” He started to help Nigel out of his blazer. “Undress for me, please.  We don’t have much time, before the party starts.”

 

The party was in full swing, Hannibal was playing the most gracious and perfect host, weaving to and fro through the throngs of people. He every so often would go check on the proceeding in the kitchen, just to make sure. He wanted the event to go as smoothly as possible. He was just about to take a fresh glass of champagne from a server when, Nigel emerged out of the crowd like smoke. He watched as his twin grabbed two glasses from the silver tray, and he leaned in close to Hannibal.

 

“I fucking hate you.” Was all that Nigel said, and then he continued to stomp away awkwardly, downing a glass of the bubbly drink as he went.

 

The server looked at Hannibal with raised eyebrows unsure what just happened; who grinned back at the surprised young man holding the tray. “Philos Adelphos. Brotherly love.” He told the server with a small almost unnoticeable shrug.  Turning swiftly on his heel he went back to talk to a small circle of guests. The server following close behind with the tray of drinks, so that Hannibal would be able to offer them to whom he was going back to talking to. Everything resumed as normal, as if Nigel had never even said a word.

 

It wasn’t until the last server was leaving, and all of the guests had gone home, that Nigel stalked out of his hiding spot, to go find Hannibal. He was appalled to find out that this ‘sex toy’ was fucking evil, and he just knew that Hannibal had known about it all along. Making a beeline for his twin, he took a hold of Hannibal’s elbow and lead him away from the rooftop terrace railing. “You smug fucking asshole.” He growled through clenched teeth. He was glancing around to make sure their was no soul left in view. “You fucking knew, I would be practically cumming in my pants, from just walking around.”

 

Hannibal’s face was closed off and as unreadable as ever. He was curious of the effects the Aneros had had on his twin. He could not help himself and asked. “Did you?” His one eyebrow raised slightly when a wash of rage and other sputtering emotions flew across Nigel’s face. He took a step backwards, when his furious brother advanced on him, as if he was about to pounce. He was acutely aware of his surroundings, and that behind him was a wading pool on the roof, in front of a row of long cushioned lounges. He did his best not to step back to far, or he’d end up in the water.

 

“No I fucking didn’t cum, if that is what you’re asking.” He ran a hand through his hair, with a frustrated sigh, biting his lower lip in contemplation. He didn’t know why he was so fucking pissed off at his twin. He knew that his shady manipulative brother, was always up to something. Which is why he told Hannibal that he owed him one, in the first place. He should have known that it wasn’t so simple. He of all people knew Hannibal the best, he should have known better, and to ask more questions. With his lips stretched thin, he heaved a sigh, and in a blinding fast motion, shoved Hannibal backwards into the pool.

 

Hannibal broke the surface of the wading pool with grace, slicking his wet hair back. He was dripping wet and his suit water logged. It was most likely ruined now, and instead of getting angry about it he just blinked up at Nigel, with his head tilted a little to the side. “Do you feel better now, Nigel?” He inquired, his brother’s temper was infamous, and he sometimes liked to stir the pot of anger just a little to see what his younger twin would do. The results were always interesting and sometimes, he became an excellent predator when he was like this.

 

“No I do not fucking feel better, and you still owe me, even more so since you didn’t explain fully what this Aneros thing could do.” He was looking slyly down at the ground, all manner of evil ideas, and plans whirled through his brain. Pay back was a bitch and he had some ideas as to how he would get back at Hannibal. He lowered himself carefully and smoothly to the edge of the pool, then slither down into the water, wading over to where his twin was. “I should fucking dunk you under water a few times, until you’re gasping for air, you evil fucking prick.”

 

Hannibal had worked his soggy suit jacket off and had folded it neatly, and tossed it over to the side of the pool. Turning back to Nigel he told him. “You get so very profane when you are angry, my dear.” He was looking downward, but straight at Nigel also as if he were peering over top of glasses, with raises eyebrows, curious as to why his twin was so cranky. “Did you do those Kegel exercises like I told you?” Nigel was suddenly there directly in front of him, with his fists balled into Hannibal’s wet dress shirt.

 

“I did, and that was when I discovered your true intentions. You fucking knew it would have me almost on the floor flopping around like a god damn fish out of water.” He was almost shaking his head, in retrospect, if he had known, and was prepare for such a flooding of the senses, and over stimulation he might have enjoyed it way more. But he had not been prepared, and it had shocked the fuck out of him, the little harmless looking toy was very intense. Hovering close enough to share breathing space with his twin, in a hushed voice he asked. “Would you use it for me, since you left me to flounder without guidance.” He wanted to see Hannibal’s reactions to the Aneros and what effect it had on his brother. “ I had to change my fucking boxers, I was pre-cumming so much.”

 

With a small minuscule smile, Hannibal brushed the side of his head against Nigel’s cheek, and whispered in his brother’s ear. “I told you anything you wish. Didn’t I?” He could feel the way his twin’s heart hammered in his chest, they stood so close together. “And I always keep my promises.” He pulled himself closer, clutching onto the waistband of Nigel’s slacks, using his other hand, he traced the V of chest hair protruding from his twin’s shirt. “Would you like me to finish what I started?”

 

From behind they both heard the stumbling footsteps, and at the same time both of the twin’s heads turned to stare directly at a straggling party guest. The guest looked utterly confused and a little too drunk. The twins still locked in an embraced looked back into each others faces at glint of mischief in their eyes, as if both thinking the same exact thing, and they then turned back to their guest. Remembering his manners, Hannibal spoke first. “Are you hungry Monsieur? I could make us something to eat.”  


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nigel's Headcanon - Twins in Marrakesh.

Dressed to kill with light cerulean blue tailored linen suit and paper thin silk button-down shirt revealing the mat of thatch over his chest, Nigel appears behind from the terracotta walls of their temporary Marrakesh home. Slipping off the constricting, yet breathable jacket and draping over one of the chairs, the warmth and the presence of the guest still clings onto the pores of the well-treated wood. Pushing the chair back in its place, he turns as Hannibal’s shoulder ever so slightly brushes against his own. His twin’s cologne, reminiscent of home they couldn’t go back as the musk and sandalwood, along with a minute trace of vanilla assaults his nostrils, adds another outworldly sensation to the ambiance as his thinned lips curl up in a slight amusement. The last bits needed to be cleaned up to return their sanctuary to be impeccable to Hannibal’s standard - the older twin moves swiftly without wasting a movement, in an autopilot as his mind works up the most rapidest way to get the job done. 

 

It would be sad to leave this two-story, not overly spacious but quaint and tasteful house perched atop the hill, overlooking the thriving street markets and the Mediterranean ocean stretched before them, it was the most perfect thing anyone could ask for. However, Hannibal had been appointed the head scholar at the prestigious library in Fez, full of ancient artifacts and exotic crafts and artworks, the mosaic walls exude full of history and legacy. Although the thriving and bustling city fit Nigel’s interests more than Fez, the travel hours were long and it wouldn’t be sustainable just to spend their time exploring every nook and cranny of the marvelous town full of rampant vivid colors, exotic spices and brilliance of sunlight seeping through the every pore of their sun-drenched skin.

 

And Nigel could always find pouring side-jobs as private investigator, a profession also attached with looming dangers and cornucopia of injuries and threats which forced them to abandon their grandiose mansion in Baltimore. As he had been protecting both of their interests alongside trying to occupy himself without feeling quotidien in the midst of streaming crowds, the scholarly city with less hecticness of more touristy and well-known Marrakesh would bring a quantum tranquility. Although things took a drastic turn after the violative act of the assaulter, Nigel felt even better than before - the excruciating death upon the wicked soul as he watched the other wither, shriek in agonizing pain, only to be contained within the confinement of the severed limbs and gradually fading life. Through the bitter taste of meat, he tasted the salvation, the proper vengeance he sought upon the annihilation of muscles and sinews in incomparable distress. 

 

Almost matching the slanting sun, the rim of the sky seeps dazzling array of twinkling rays and contours through their coppery skin. The beads of sweat accentuates the sharp lines underneath both twins’ pale eyebrows, the deep ridges curving downward and brings out their intense hazel and maroon. The day in the touristy, bustling with thriving marketplaces and bazaars aside, the clock had been ticking down. They only had two days until they would leave to the scholarly hub of Northern Africa. 

 

The center of their eyes gleam with extraordinarily sparkle, sultriness dripping like drops of whiskey with added honeyed gaze. Hannibal’s completely occupied as he looks at almost empty tagines, used to brimming full with scrumptious and succulent  _ ‘lamb’  _ stew with heaping bowls of couscous. Their rampant killing of the rude didn’t stop while they had fled the States - with their predatory glimmer, hidden beneath the brim of the panama hat, anyone who had crossed their path in a wrong way would meet their expectant demise. Hannibal’s penchant for opening a lavish, yet tasteful party extended here in a country full of densely packed Mosques, palaces and gardens. Their extravagant rooftop had its own personal pool, as well as a terrace with long, mosaic table full of jewels and gleaming ceramic tiles and most important of all, a canopy bed with mini bar only reserved for them as they relished each other’s carnality - through exposed workings of human anatomy, throbbing pump of blood as a dazzling spread permeated the air which had already been tinged with radiant orange glow. 

 

All the things had been cleared away and the spilling radiance of vivid oranges and reds seep into their clothes as they make back to the rooftop. As the sliver of setting sun leaves a lingering emphasis along those chiseled cheekbones, making them more pronounced as Nigel turns to face Hannibal. The suspended and adjustable sofa bed, aligned with cushions come into the focus. With a gentle push along with contrasting tug, as swift as the bee as he hears the distinctive stretch and rip of the fabric, he watches the buttons scatter all over the exotic rug, Hannibal’s lips hang slightly and grows ajar, feigning shock. It’s not like he didn’t appreciate, or rather, got off on Nigel’s display of roughness. 

 

“Now what’s on your devious mind? Unlike the last time, I assure you there wouldn’t be any unintended ‘visitors,’ looming large to apprehend us.” Slipping the parting shirt off his broad shoulders, Hannibal raises a curious pale brow as a soft grunt pushes through his throat. The sofa begins to gently pendulate upon his weight landed against the wooden frame. He can’t help but to flash an uplifted quirk of lips as his mind reels to replay rather amusing display of Nigel carrying forth what he had taught him. Using the applied force to counteract, the corporeal training of sweat and sex, through their  unsubstitutable bonding experience, they triumphed in blood and sweat, as they drenched in equal amount as they had caused vengeful havoc.   

 

With a mischievous quirk of his lips, Nigel remains silent, although there’s almost inaudible hint of amused grin behind those crimson lips. With the spread of intermingled colors as a backdrop, his devilishly stunning and brutally handsome figure closes in as he undoes his belt around his white linen pants. He could already feel the super-voluptuous flame licking through his spine, along with the rush of heat from the alcohol making its full-way through the veneer of his hazel orbs. Reaching for Hannibal’s arms, his body already seem to pant with unquenchable yearning for the other’s tangible reality. 

 

Hannibal remains placid, yet his equally blazing intense maroon seems to peer into Nigel’s clothed form as he traces an outline of his twin’s girth. He doesn’t have to imagine hard to perceive the flushed and already erect length radiating heat and twitching against the fabric. Like walking in long, predatory strides, Hannibal is profoundly good at maintaining his posture, even when his arms are strung tighter, pressed together as Nigel’s belt restrains his wrists as tight as it goes. The exquisite strain feels both aching and jolting, as his spine is forced to drawn together and arch sharply to ease the shoulder blades. A gentle flutter becomes a vibrating tremor as Hannibal wants to relish his twin’s nakedness and the genuine emotion oozing out of him, fully savoring him as the exuding warmth carries and clings onto the strip of exposed skin along with the distinctive, intoxicating scent of Moroccan spice from the dish they had consumed. 

 

Nigel’s energy is as contagious as metastasizing cancer cells, relentless and ruthless when it comes to ravaging the body. As he takes a few backsteps to appreciate the work, Nigel’s narrow hips swagger, a knowing yet imperceptible smirk adorning his lips. Hannibal’s usually unreadable expression takes on a faint hint of lasciviousness and desirous gaze as the slightly elevated throbs of heartbeat becomes music, along with the faint exoticism carried upon in layers of overlapped colors and darkening twilight scattering celestial bodies akin to the centers of their gleaming eyes. Unfathomable depths crashing in mid-air as the ravenous wanting flow around them like the most luscious body lotion applied across their flawless skin. 

  
As the rest of the house drowns in dimness and some focal lights from the overhanging lamps and side of the bed illuminate the cushions and slants across Hannibal’s quivering muscles, Nigel produces a pocket knife he always carried for safety purposes. With an easy flick of his wrist, the gleaming silver reflects the stripes of lights before ripping through the fibers, the intricate fabric easily parts and reveals Hannibal’s sun-drenched skin, even more tanned than before under the intense summer heat. The subtle night breeze still carries the warmth as more beads of sweat forms around the hairline as Hannibal emits an imperceptible grunt. The sharp edge of the blade scrapes against the mat of his chest hair, drawing small drops of blood as they coalesce with his sweat.  


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continue'd.

Nigel notices a stark and sensuous curve, the upper part of the V-shaped gluteus medius peeking above the waistband along Hannibal’s lean waist while the other twin’s posture accentuates his broader shoulders. Slipping and easing the silk shirt off and hurtling over Hannibal’s face as one of his knees jab between the other doppelganger’s parted thighs, Nigel’s hand immediately closes around Hannibal’s taut neck muscles as the blunt tip of the blade presses against the standing cord of Hannibal’s neck. It continues to push into the coppery skin as along with Nigel’s gaze, it hovers around the sculpted collarbones with a thin film of sweat makes them pop out. Even from the distance, Nigel can make out those beads trail downward like glitters falling, sweeping his twin’s muscles as his own eyes follow the swirling curve.

 

As soon as Nigel’s kneecap contacts his erection, Hannibal’s body reacts and greets Nigel with a subtle twitch of muscles, brushing against the slightly coarse fabric as Nigel makes out an unmistakable seep along the shaft as Hannibal’s hips shift above the creased cushion. The sparking maroon and hazel meet up in mid-air as soon as Hannibal shakes Nigel’s shirt off without his composure ever breaking or becoming loose even a sliver. As if thousands of bolts of raw current had been flaring up in the air as the looming arousal lingers within the air, Nigel’s grinding drastically slows down as he lowers himself even further into the radiating warmth contained within lean muscles and sinews, and feels Hannibal’s adam’s apple bob with both want and transferred heat from the rough and hardened digits, which act as a catalyst. As warm caress of Nigel’s lips brush against the curve of Hannibal’s neck and after he gives few lewd glances over where the scents deepen, the tip of the blade perforates just enough to draw blood, but not to leave a visible scar when healed.

 

The corners of Hannibal’s eyes barely etch as minute sting from the blade still has him unfazed. Yet, his neck arches into the expanse of Nigel’s palm and thumb, which digs into the underside of his jaw and constricted flow of the blood adds another sensation as his heart gradually thumps louder against his ribcage. He gets off tied up like this, especially against the hands of whom he places his complete trust; and his growing yearning for contact and most importantly, Nigel’s enthusiasm rubbing onto his skin had meant whatever he did to bring his twin back to his usual self had marvelously worked and no matter where they were, that would be what matters the most.

 

Swallowing with a slightest strain on his part, Hannibal’s gleaming maroon remains unblinking as the muscles begins to radiate a dull throb, egging on his lower appendages to move in return. Tiptoeing as his thighs lift off, the side of his face rubs against Nigel’s, as his smooth jaw tickles against a bit of stubble of his five o’clock shadow.

 

“I’m thinking of reciprocating what you did in that dimmed basement, the best fucking orgasm you’d ever given me. How can I ever fucking forget?” The first time he was utterly enraptured in spillage of copious amount of undulating energy from every inch of his muscle and stinging gush of heat almost splitting him open, how he had been out of practice back then flabbergasts him still. “You were such a condescending  _ prick  _ then, you haven’t even fucking changed  _ a bit _ .” His voice drawls with both aggravated arousal and the reminiscent memories of that particular afternoon.

 

“I assure you, whatever you want to do is fine with me,  _ my dear _ , but do make sure to use a lot of lube and impeccably wash your hands,” Hannibal’s cruel, sensuous lips that seems to be a pinnacle of stoicism minutely curls up in an amused smirk. As more scent of iron-rich crimson travels its way up to Hannibal’s sharp nose, the added scent of their shared kink and the medium of predatory dominance only accentuates to elevate Hannibal’s heartbeat. “I’m positively sure you want to draw more blood, too.” He adds with absolute confidence as he feels the scalding heat dribble and trace through the dip V of his neck muscle. Knowing Nigel, with the returned favor of prostate stimulation and a bit of the other’s characteristic roughness presented in the extension of the steel bearing his life fluid, and the concurrent display of affectionate caress of warm and slick wetness would be the most exquisite sensation he could relish in the doggone days of the summer.

 

“Yeah, yeah, are you fucking gonna tell me to clip my nails and move my fingers a tad bit right and massage through instead of fucking jabbing it? Stop being a fucking smart-ass and let me do the damn work,” Nigel shoots his twin a glare as he trails a fingertip upon the thickest bush where he sees a clinging blood drop, threatening to drop onto the waistband of the light-colored pants and seep into the fabric. Blowing a cool jet of air against Hannibal’s nipple, the tip of Nigel’s tongue finds the drizzle and tastes intoxicating salty pungent tang. “I’ll get the fucking lube out and make sure your behind stays nice and shiny.” He mumbles against Hannibal’s pectorals as he stimulates the perked up nipple, drawing a circular motion as he slithers upward, maintaining his rutting motion as his own erection stirs within the confines of his boxer briefs.

 

Whiskey eyes burning like the morning sun, Nigel clashes his lips against Hannibal’s, the backside of the blade pressed over the carotid as he feels the slight thump of his twin’s gradually increasing, yet steady heartbeat. Knowing Hannibal’s too well-composed and controlled breathing which doesn’t go over ninety-five whenever they’re killing the rude, the lingering taste combined with Hannibal’s wine marinated lips taste captives him like a fucking hypnotist. Their combined tastes become perfected with age, like a fine vintage wine. Getting matured and exquisite with age. Shared breaths become eternal, as limbs become entangled, discarding Nigel’s chucked off shirt as the silver hardness moves downward to dispose Hannibal’s pants to turn into slashed rag.

 

Soon enough, seeing the flushed and smooth head peeking out above the thin waistband of the white boxer briefs just like his, Hannibal’s swollen and fat length seems so eager, in contrast with his collected facade for Nigel’s heat to swallow and suck it whole. Slowly tipping off Hannibal’s shoes and socks as fingers nimbly and dexterously move to undress his twin in stark nakedness, Nigel applies more tension along Hannibal’s lower appendages to strain his biceps further. Watching the growing length perched atop against Hannibal’s abdomen with a bit of thatch, he flicks the sparkling knife, growing more reflective and radiant under the glowing lamp close against the exuding heat.

 

Hannibal’s legs part even more as Nigel’s hand languidly strokes over his erection. A lewd noise intensifying as more slick coats the fingertips and hilt of the pocket knife. The fleshy tube stretching over the smooth crown and Hannibal relishes the delicious quivering of his muscles, intently observing what his body could go through and making mental notes. Still keeping one of his hand close to the base, near the perineum between anus and scrotum, Nigel’s long limb reaches for a tub of lube as the last hindrance finally slips off Hannibal’s toned legs.   

 

Hannibal’s voice, sweeter than honey, drips into Nigel’s ear as he calmly watches through the hitching breaths. “Now might be the good time to concentrate in making me to cum.” The sticky fluid slowly starting to ooze between the sleeves and engorged head. A subtle inhale confirms Hannibal’s arousal, as he takes a sharp intake of his heavy musk and the scent of Nigel’s personal cologne clinging on his skin even with a fleeting amount of time. Their scantily, but tastefully half-clad bodies barely coming to more contact as Nigel begins to coat his fingers thoroughly in transparent fluid, bringing them over close to the aforementioned location. “Be patient and take your time,” Hannibal says, in his typical baritone and accented voice.


	4. Chapter 4

Instead of answering, Nigel licks over the tip of the blade to taste the lingering metallic tang of the blood and discards the blade for now. Soon, his fingers clasp around the erect length as he draws a helix-like movements, curving and vortexing in slow, languid downward motion as the fingers of the other hand coats further in lube. Painfully slow and unhurried, as coals burn gray with retained heat, Nigel could drown in the soft music of the waltzing of their bones and flesh, encased within Hannibal’s increasing heat as he rhythmically circles around the tight entrance. **  
**

Nigel could almost hear the sinister and raucous music playing within his skull as he recalls his own experience of spasming and trembling under Hannibal’s expert fingers and tongue manifests before him. Clearer than the cloudless night full of romanticism and magnetism. Fingers had turned to each note on the music sheet as his corporeal cry had become a mere white noise as Hannibal’s hand had been the most well-trained conductor through the orchestration of his body. The same rush of heat pools near his lower abdomen, his growing length straining against the white fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination as it creates a distinctive bulge. Minutes of exquisite bliss still reminiscent upon the somatic cells of his body as fingers bury within Hannibal’s resonating body heat.

 

Feeling his hips shift as his erection twitches in anticipation, Hannibal’s chin tips backward, a genuine groan pushing behind his throat makes his neck taut. Feeling the surge of pulse against his jugular as he thrusts into Nigel’s firm grip. Through the transformative procedure of apex predators becoming  each other’s prey as their bodies and senses and scents mingle, the escalation of those become even more intense as they succumb to debauchery of carnal desire. Watching Hannibal’s throbbing erection twitch with need as it heavily hangs between the other’s quivering thighs, Nigel frees himself from the last article of clothing while reluctantly letting go of the velvety skin, pinched between his fingers.  

 

As soon as he hurls the last confining plaster of nuisance to the side, Nigel’s spine curls as his rock hard length brushes against the flat plane of his abdomen. A hand reaching for Hannibal’s immaculately gelled and parted hair, messing it up as Nigel tilt his twin’s chin as their sonorous hard skin presses together, smearing colors over each other’s bodies as Nigel meets Hannibal’s lips. A tingling jolt sparks both of their nerves alive as Nigel tantalizingly press a knee to Hannibal’s erection, feeling the heated arousal spill and wet a spot on the coppery skin. His free hand reaches beneath the tight coil of Hannibal’s heat, massaging through the anus as he prepares to internally massage him.

 

Fingers tightening around Hannibal’s neck as Nigel feels Hannibal’s carotid artery squeeze, he uses the flat of the heel to leverage to use more force as his figure slants and leans, pressing against the seated twin’s inner thigh as the pointed tip presses against the plush cushion. Teeth and lips streak and paint Hannibal’s bare torso as both warm against the warm caress of the air that sweeps across. As Nigel concentrates all of his attention to Hannibal’s breathing, a strained gasp as maroon orbs roll backwards in blazing seventh heaven as Hannibal relinquishes all the resist, restrained arms falling back even more. His stoic posture barely keeps in check with Nigel’s firm hold against his muscles. “Harder, more to the right.” Hannibal urges, a gentle tremor carrying through him as his poised cock continues to weep and sting.

 

“Must be so fucking clinical?” Nigel glares with a curl of his lips and clamps his teeth upon Hannibal’s jawline. Then Nigel feels Hannibal’s sensitive tip press against his stomach as his twin’s half-mast orbs, along with the sound of a low frequency, drumming with gentle percussion against his eardrums as it gradually starts to fade from his attention. Hannibal’s gradually hitching breaths sounding even more flowing music to Nigel’s ears as color seems to drain from Hannibal’s face along with hard skin pulsating beneath his lips.

 

A gentle lightheadedness, along with the slow aggravation and buildup of arousal akin to millefeuille gradually stack up. Hannibal’s body limply falls onto the cushion with a sharp breath as Nigel’s lubed finger reaches for the walnut-shaped bump. Before his drumming heart falters to beat more strenuously, Hannibal feels his resistance easily break as the direct circular motion gently pushes with the gentle pressure. The tight coil grabbing Nigel’s fingers in a death grip.

 

In petrified spasms as their accommodating bodies match the undulating milky way floating overhead and the whirling mind reducing the world around to the breadth of their space, Nigel’s cock repeatedly kisses against the expanse Hannibal’s chest as he continues to grind in a rippling motion and he groans out aloud in low, husky exhale, revelling in their continued sweat-drenched bodies slapping.

 

Nigel’s husky voice drawl as gasping sound soon reduces into a whisper. “Are you fucking ready to come yet?” And he expects this is exactly what will happen, Hannibal burning him from inside out, if he hadn’t done it already with the tight squeeze as the muscles contract, which in turn, knocks the air out of him. Hannibal is on verge of slipping to the other side and that is exactly when Nigel lets go of the stronghold, fingers unwinding from the twin’s neck and impale his fingers deeper inside of him, wrapped around deluging heat as lewd sight greets him as precum pools between his legs.

 

Velvety sacs already turned color as Nigel’s strong arms prop against the Hannibal as the strung up limb goes numb and limp. “Almost,” Hannibal swallows with effort and feels deflating lungs burn with desperation. With the backward drop of his chin, Hannibal’s chest sticks out, straining to rise under the constricting fabric. Just as Nigel feels the wet tip graze the sweet spot, always perfectly and in one single sweep as his tight walls continue to coil and flutter around the thick length, he pulls the string that tightens the corset and immediately, Hannibal’s chest fluff comes to life as beaks of the ducklings trying to break its shell, ready to take their first view into the world.

 

Hannibal’s heavy lids strain to lift as a bit of tear adheres his thick lashes and as soon as his chest is able to expand and glide against Nigel’s. Fingers curling hard against the railing of the sofa-bed as leather of Nigel’s belt digs into Hannibal’s wrists, chafing enough to leave a distinct mark. Knuckles turning white as he leverages the trembling torso, it sinks down against the cushion as Nigel props his body up. Letting go of Hannibal’s neck as his scalding touches leave its permanent contusion along the protruded veins where vigor of life frenetically pumps, Nigel quickly holds onto his twin’s jutting hipbones. Taking a deep inhale to savor Nigel in whole, an amalgamation of all those that define his twin. Whiskey, cigarettes, a band of sweat around his neck and increasingly intoxicating heavy musk that continues to smear across his abdomen.

 

No matter how many times Nigel delves into Hannibal’s delicious heat, cascading upon his fingers and coalescing with his own fluids, as the throbbing length breaths, a cry of desperation as it urges to be relieved and his finger breaches Hannibal’s tight resistance, a new sensation as their rather silent fornication offers another depth of sensation. Especially now that he sought upon the sweeping sensuality  as if Medusa’s gaze had him to be petrified.

 

Through all of his nerves sparking and burning as Hannibal’s inaudible sharp exhale and his stilling body confirms his copious release, coming untouched as each exchange of breath tangled to conjoin in oneness through deep into the oblivion as they get caught in a whirlwind of love. From consuming and exploring lips to hands grazing over the sweat covered skin, onto the tight lock, muscles rippling like waves drag across the hard floor. Overwhelming heavy musk soon assaults Nigel’s nostrils as Hannibal’s orgasm successively knocks his breaths out. Panting and puffing as Hannibal’s tip continues to kiss against Nigel’s stomach and paint ropes of pearly white all over their pressed chest, Hannibal’s rim continues to flutter as it makes the most lewdest sound.

 

Hands urging further to stimulate the outside of Hannibal’s testicles and lips spilling of addictive tang and salty sweetness of the cum as his tongue drags over to savor his twin’s offering, Hannibal’s essence continue to adhere between Nigel’s chest as he slithers downward. Still enraptured upon the unquenchable heat that still emits from Hannibal’s inside, he sensually licks over the still twitching length, moving in a pendulous motion. “I still need to fuck you, deep and slow. If you still have energy to do so.”


End file.
